


when you're super far from home

by zanykingmentality



Category: Original Work
Genre: (it's intentional), Cheating, F/M, Introspection, Lost Love, Lowercase, abuse of descriptive language, it's a bit of an abusive relationship, not physically though, quite a bit of symbolism tbh, there's some f/f there too if you squint, unnamed character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: she spends too much time believing in something that's not love. she doesn't see the things she missed.(or: working through some feelings.)





	when you're super far from home

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to my best friend, nat, for being the ari to my grace, the leslie to my ann, the thomas to my joan, and basically just being the greatest and most supportive best friend ever when i wasn't willing to listen. 
> 
> the title is taken from the song "Super Far" by LANY. 
> 
> please enjoy~!

windows shuttered, doors locked. she doesn’t leave the apartment. she waits for him to come home to flip the light switches on, a tiny smile pulling at his lips when he sees her. she is addicted to that smile, the one that blinds her from phone calls in the dead of night and eyes that don’t feel what they once had.

 

(she hasn’t felt it for a while. but she keeps coming back.)

 

he’s a flirt, and someone who enjoys laughing. who doesn’t take anything seriously. he’s a good fit for her, who’s tired of living and in need of a little more love. she’s still recovering, and at first, she doesn’t know how to respond. how he’s so affectionate, so fast. they know each other for two months, and she’s already moved into his apartment, spare key hidden underneath the welcome mat.

 

they move too fast. maybe that’s one of the problems.

 

(she wonders if she can ever do what’s best for her.)

 

“babe,” he says, and she knows hearing it isn’t special anymore, not like it once was, because now it’s just a word that’s lost its meaning. “sometimes i get really scared that you’ll leave me.”

 

she pushes his hair back and presses her lips to his forehead. “i’ll never leave you,” she says, a promise she intends to keep. “i could never.”

 

that same heartthrob smile pulls at his lips, and her stomach churns at the sight of it. (she won’t let herself understand what this means, yet.) he pulls at her hand and presses a chaste kiss on the back of it.

 

“you’re my forever, grace,” he says, using her name for the first time in a long time.

 

(he says it too short, too clipped. it’s not enough. _grace._ graaace.)

 

she’s never believed in forevers. she never believed in soulmates, in finding the one person who understood you better than anyone else. until he came along, and spouted pretty words like _love_ and _hope_ and _us_ and _together._

 

“you could have anyone else in the world,” she says quietly, jolting when his fingers tug at her shirt. she lays a hand over his and looks him in his eyes, dark eyes she’d fallen in love with when she didn’t know how to love.

 

“but i want you,” he whispers, breath hot against her cheeks, and that’s what this is now, what she lives with. she doesn’t question him about it again. (she should’ve.)

 

(there are so many things she should’ve done. things she didn’t do. so it wouldn’t have ended up like this. maybe the regret is the worst part of it.)

 

she tries to ignore his late-night calls to a different girl where he says _babe_ and _love_ and _together_ , and he says it’s nothing to worry about, that he’s allowed to have friends too, right? she blanches and looks down at her legs, curled underneath her on the couch, and nods slowly. “sure. yeah. try not to stay out too late this time.”

 

he grins at her and pecks her cheek. “of course, babe.” even though she knows these are just words, and he won’t be back until morning.

 

(she doesn’t wait up for him, anymore.)

 

in the beginning, their relationship is beautiful. it’s like a flower that blossoms in the rainy months of spring, poking its petals into the sky and reminding the world there is elegance in the small things. they’re both nervous and scared but it _works_ , and they’re in love, and it’s a feeling neither thought they could ever feel again, after being hurt the way they had before.

 

but life has a habit of getting in the way. he has someone else, someone who’s not her, even though he says she’s his endgame, the only one he wants. but their relationship doesn’t change.

 

(grace is the _other_ girl. the side girl. the one he hides from his friends because he’s embarrassed. the one he doesn’t love enough.)

 

she’s focused on work. on being perfect. on reaching the end with no regrets, working herself to the bone and numbing all feelings. (but the one thing she never questions is her love for him. she can only wish he was the same.) he says work is too stressful and he doesn’t know if he loves her anymore. as if she’s not also struggling, also trying hard.

 

because the one thing he doesn’t understand, seems to have never understood, is that love is a choice.

 

he comes and goes based on how he feels, and as soon as it’s not as strong he leaves, because he doesn’t _care._ and she understands. she knows because she doesn’t care either, but she is different.

 

in the beginning, he is too idealistic, and she is too realistic. by the end, she’s deluded and he’s apathetic.

 

(what a way to live.)

 

“i don’t like him,” ari says, her voice coated with static from the phone. “you’re too good for him. he doesn’t treat you well. i don’t trust him.”

 

“what do you mean he doesn’t treat me well?” grace pushes her lips together. “he loves me.”

 

“yeah,” ari responds. “you and every other girl in the world.”

 

(they leave that phone call farther apart than before.)

 

“do you love me?” she asks him, when he comes home and sets his bag on the chair.

 

he looks at her strangely. “why?”

 

“well, um _―_ ari said that, and, you know what, it’s not fair of me to doubt you _―_ ”

 

“i’m not sure,” he says. “give me some time. wait until the summer, and i’ll have it figured out.” grace just blinks at him, because this is not what she was expecting. (or maybe it is, and she was holding out hope for something different.)

 

for the first time, white-hot rage builds inside her stomach, all directed at him. how _dare_ he? how dare he say it’s gone and make her wait like this, like he didn’t have a choice in how it turned out?

 

(her past experiences with being told to wait for an answer surge back, twisting and coiling in her mind. they make her angrier.)

 

“okay,” is all she says, because she doesn’t want to argue with him, doesn’t want to risk messing up the chance she has that it’ll work out in her favor. after that she reads into every word he says, every movement and action, hoping each one will prove to her that he still loves her.

 

(in the end, it proves a hard habit to shake.)

 

she is not happy being with him. he’s still affectionate and still loving, but it feels different. feels stranger. feels almost unwelcome.

 

“you have to figure out what’s best for you,” ari says. “you’re not happy with him.”

 

“but i want him to be happy,” grace responds, helplessly. she feels like a puppet controlled by a marionette, like a rag doll being tossed around in the ocean. completely and utterly out of control.

 

ari’s voice is unwavering, stronger than grace has heard it in months. “what makes him more deserving of happiness than you?”

 

(grace doesn’t have an argument for that.)

 

he stumbles home, hurt in his eyes. she immediately stands up and helps him sit down, worry furrowing her eyebrows. “what happened?”

 

“hannah left me,” he says quietly. “she just… left.”

 

grace ignores the sting in her heart that’s always present when he talks about her. “maybe it’s for the best,” she tries. “you said yourself, you weren’t happy with her.”

 

“yeah,” he says. “yeah.”

 

(it’s right then, that she knows. this is the beginning of the end.)

 

he’s not there when she needs him. she breaks down and for the first time in a while, leaves the apartment to see people she’d very nearly lost contact with. she meets new people. she finds fleeting happiness in small interactions but it always goes away when she steps back into the apartment. sometimes he’s there, not talking to her, and she goes about her life as if he’s not there.

 

“what happened to us?” she asks. she wants to make this work. it means a lot to her.

 

“i don’t know,” he says. “things change.” and that’s that.

 

“do you still love me?” she knows the answer.

 

“no.”

 

(she’s not surprised that it doesn’t hurt the same way she thought it would.)

 

“have you seen perks of being a wallflower?” ally asks, her voice in therapist-mode. she’s technically a social worker, but that and the job of psychologist seem to coincide more than grace would have thought.

 

“yes?” grace has to think for a moment to remember. “yeah, i have. it was a while ago, though.”

 

“ _we accept the love we think we deserve_ ,” ally quotes. “maybe that could help you.”

 

(when she gets home, she watches the movie again. and again. and again. she doesn’t greet him when he comes home and he doesn’t come find her. she pokes her head out from her room and stares at his closed door. for once, she doesn’t cry.)

 

she’s different, now. colder. stronger. she doesn’t want to let him walk over her again, not anymore. she gets help for issues more deeply rooted than this one, for issues she didn’t know were issues. when she thinks about him, jolts of anger make her fingers twitch with a desire to hurt, to _break._ and she leaves the apartment for good.

 

they try the whole _friends_ thing. how are you? good, how are you? i’m good. (it doesn’t go far.)

 

in her heart, grace knows it’s better this way. she won’t be hurt twice. when she thinks she’s ready, she will revisit the apartment, with him and a new girl and the smell of love wafting from the windows. but for now, she goes to her new home, pushes open the door.

 

“welcome home!” ari turns with a wide smile. “c’mon, we’re playing mario kart.”

 

grace’s lips pull into a smile. it’s not a foreign feeling anymore. “and you’re maining rosalina, i presume?” her voice has a joking lilt to it, something she’d thought she’d lost. (turns out, she’d just needed something to bring it back. something like this.)

 

“pfft, of course. is that even a question?” they grab the controllers and ari looks at grace, maintaining eye contact for a second too long to be innocent. there’s faint concern in her eyes, like she can tell grace has been thinking too much about things again.

 

“let’s go,” grace says. they shout and exchange quips back-and-forth, and grace knows now: she can be happy. she is not alone. she is _―_ was _―_ never alone.

 

this is not where the story ends. but it _is_ where the story gets better. it always gets better.

**Author's Note:**

> so that... happened. i know long notes are frustrating, just bear with me here! 
> 
> a little explanation, before you assume that "wow king, you just wrote a ton of conflicting shit and spat it out and called it art" nononono. the beginning is mostly memories, although it's told in the present tense. i like this idea because to me, when i was thinking about those memories, they still felt fresh, and like they still applied. by talking about them in the same tense as the rest of the story shows that it isn't separate, it's just a part of the story. that's why it's so conflicting, because the memories jumble up with the feelings about looking back on them.
> 
> the male character is intentionally unnamed!! make of that what you will. 
> 
> i could talk about this work for hours, but i won't. but hey, if you want to hear a little more about it, hit me up on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/aquilics) and [tumblr](http://zanykingmentality.tumblr.com/ask).


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